


Sherlock. Molly. And the stab wound.

by Suzannasaurus_Rex



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt, Hurt Sherlock, Molly Cares For Sherlock, Sherlock Hates Hospital, Sherlock Stabbed, Sherlolly - Freeform, mollock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:14:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzannasaurus_Rex/pseuds/Suzannasaurus_Rex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock turning up to Bart's Hospital the way he had was the last thing Molly was expecting and even less so, the fact he came to her.</p><p>Sherlock gets stabbed in a suspect chase gone wrong and Molly is the closest person he can reach. Of course Molly helps without a second thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so first EVER try at this, of course it had to be Sherlock....
> 
> I have always shipped sherlolly. It's my OTP. Sherlollian forever.
> 
> So anyway, let the games begin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When Molly strode into work, she assumed that today would be just like any other. Not. Her heels clicked on the floor as she steadily made her way down the wide corridors of Bart's Hospital. She kept her pile of files locked in her arms, tight against her chest. Her mind was totally focused on the days work until something caught her eye. A deep red smear decorated the wall. It looked almost like...blood. Quickly, Molly picked up her pace following the erratic marks. Soon she found herself right at the foot of the morgue doors. She gulped and took a deep breathe before nudging the door open with her shoulder, avoiding the smattering of red.  
She was met with what might have been her worst fear. Involuntarily she dropped her files, spilling them over the polished floor. 

"Sherlock?!" She screeched, in disbelief. Her eyes widened, bigger than an owls and her jaw dropped. 

She appeared not to be in control of her expression because if she was she wouldn't have let such a look consume her face in Sherlock's presence. But of course this wasn't quite an ordinary situation. For, Sherlock. Well, he wasn't quite so much of his arrogant self. In fact, at this moment he was propped awkwardly against a cupboard. His back arched and his arm slumped over a crimson patch on his usually crisp, white shirt. His eyes were open ever so slightly and his breathing was short and weak. But he was, to Molly's slightest relief, alive. But maybe not for long, Molly thought when she saw the thick blood pooling under him. Weakening him by the minute.  
Naturally she bounded over to his still form, collapsing to her knees by his side. Ignoring the warm sensation soaking through her tights. She pressed her hand over where Sherlock was, eliciting a small moan. She brushed his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes with the other. Her mind raced, she didn't know what to do. She went to reach for her phone when she heard the almost inaudible word Sherlock slurred.

"Molly?!" He grumbled.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm calling john, then getting you medical attention."

"No!" He panicked "John, No hospital."

"Sherlock you need to get help, you've lost to much blood already"

Sherlock stayed silent, his energy to depleted to argue any further. The one thing he did notice was the fact she wasn't stuttering, she always stuttered around him. Takes the women a crisis situation to get herself under control. Molly grabbed her phone and dialed the number, waiting for an answer. One hand still pressed on the wound.

"Hey, Molly?" Johns voice came at the other end of the phone.

"It's Sherlock, he turned up at Bart's. He's been stabbed or something. Get over here now."

"Okay, Um, I'll be right there." He answered slightly flustered.

Molly hung up without even replying. She turned her attention back to Sherlock who looked even worse now than ever. His skin paler than it was to start of with and sweat causing a shiny sheen to coat his forehead. 

"Sherlock?" She tried.

"mm?" He groaned.

"Can you tell me what happened?" 

"Chasing suspect... Stabbed... hurts ....Tired." Was all she could make out.

" Yeah, tired. But you have to stay awake." Sherlock just shook his head, his eyes drifting shut. 

"No!" Molly all but shouted, lightly slapping him but it was to late. Sherlock was unconscious. Again she had no idea what to do. So what was her solution? She screamed. "Help! Help! Please we need help!"


	2. Chapter 2

The minutes it took for someone to hear Molly's call felt like hours, then life sped up. She didn't even remember how she got in the sparkling white surroundings of the waiting room, clutching a cup of coffee in her hands. Every now and then she brought it up to her lips and took a small sip of the lukewarm liquid. It stung as it slid down her sore through, which brought her to question. Why was she drinking it? Maybe it was for a short distraction from reality.  
Her mind was torn from her beverage when John came stumbling into the waiting room, a worried look etched onto his face.

 

"Where is he? Is he okay?" John questioned, before Molly even had a chance to fully register his arrival. Molly shook her head involuntarily.

"They won't let me see him. They won't even tell me what's going on." Molly answered, tears pricking her eyes. John gave a brief nod before slumping into the vacant seat next to Molly. Neither spoke. In fact neither even reacted at all until a stern looking doctor came striding over to them.   
Molly and John stood simultaneously, exchanging a quick glance.

"How is he?" John asked first

"Is he alright?" Molly added.

The doctor to last look at his clipboard then spoke.

"He's stable for now. He sustained a deep puncture wound to his left abdomen and had minor internal bleeding. There was also a mild bacterial infection, likely from unclean blades, we are treating that as I speak. He's healing although we need to be careful the wound doesn't reopen. Apart from a minor concussion he should be fie soon." 

"Well can we see him." Molly asked instantly, unable to restrain the question. 

The doctor gave a curt nod "Yes! Room 37, but keep him quite, no excitement." 

The journey through the corridors was a slow and silent one. Neither spoke. Molly didn't even know if she could. She had walked those halls hundreds of times. But this time it was different. This time Sherlock was on the other end and Molly was no longer sure if she could bare to look at his beaten face.   
A sickening feeling landed in the pit of her stomach when the door came into view. For a moment she considered turning around. Running. But she couldn't bring herself to do that either, to flee away from the man who came to her for help. John and Molly filed into the private hospital room. Bright white shone from every surface, making the room seem whiter than it actually was. Then, there was Sherlock, lying as still as a statue. His skin almost the same color as the sheets he lay on. A large purple bruise had formed under his eye and along his jaw line. A huge contrast to his paleness. Tubes twisted from the back of his hands and a mask was fixed to his face  
The discomfort was evident on Johns face, clearly hurt be what had happened to his friend. Molly could see he wanted to be here but didn't at the same time.

"Why don't you go get a coffee of something?" Molly asked , her voice cutting through the silents like a knife. John looked up considering it for a moment, then he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I could do with a coffee, You want one?" 

"No I'm good thanks."

John nodded yet again before vacating the room. Molly let out a sigh of relief. She wasn't all that comfortable with John around either, if she was honest. After a moment of awkwardly standing in the middle of the room she moved over to Sherlock's bedside, the steady beeping of his heart comforting her slightly. She sank into the hard plastic chair next to him, exhausted. Her eye's never left his face, yet somehow her hand found his her fingers entwining around his. That's where Molly stayed, running her jumbled thoughts over through her mind. Then she felt a twitch on her hand and was snapped back to reality by a weak mumble from the direction of the bed.

"Molly?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, hope you like it so far. Review if you can!


End file.
